


Wounded.

by starsystem



Series: Wounded [1]
Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Hurt Prompto, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag since I'm new to this, I promise, Injury, M/M, No Spoilers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Some pining, Worried Noct gives me liiiiiifeeeeee, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9527831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsystem/pseuds/starsystem
Summary: Prompto's gravely wounded in combat.





	

Prompto's ears were ringing.  
  
He's suddenly falling backwards, slamming down onto the ground as his head ricochets against the earth like a stray bullet. His vision blurs; limbs spread straight out on the dirt with the exception of one leg bent at the knee. _What was that?_

The world slows for a second and Prompto manages a quick glance to his left. There's a small, ratty-looking daemon barreling toward him at full speed. But Prompto can't move, nor find the strength to react. It's all happening too fast. _So much for adrenaline and survival instinct._ Something vaguely...hurts.  
  
"Prompto!"  
  
A lonesome blade appears - seemingly out of no where - and speeds past him to pierce the advancing daemon through the side. It dies instantly with a pathetic yelp as Noctis materializes in suit and reconnects with his blade. He barely allows his feet a chance to hit the ground before making a short break for Prompto.

"Can you walk?" Noctis asks with a quiver in his voice. Prompto chuckles, albeit weakly.  
  
"Huh? It's just a scratch, du--"  
  
He glances down at his leg and practically sputters at the unexpected sight of it. There's a chunk of both fabric and flesh missing from his thigh. The spot's bleeding profusely - muscle exposed as an alarming pool of blood continues to collect in the dirt underneath him. His eyes widen considerably.  
  
"Oh." Prompto muses in a whisper. _That explains, well, everything_. Pain suddenly rushes through him, his body only now recovering from the initial shock of the battle. Noctis doesn't hesitate and clumsily presses trembling, dirty hands against the gaping wound. Prompto winces loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. He wants to puke.  
  
"Ignis!" Noct's voice breaks with emotion now. "Gladio! Dammit!"  
  
They're still working on dispatching the last of the daemon horde. There's a grunt in the distance as Gladio swings his greatsword for a final time. Another series of cries from dying abominations. Seconds later, footsteps - Ignis and Gladio are sprinting over. Prompto's feeling increasingly dizzy, despite already being on the ground. The mountains in the distance morph into blurry lumps of brown clay. His leg burns from the pressure of Noctis' hands, as well as the particles of dirt and grime sprinkling into the wound. _Why am I so useless all the time? Once again, I'm just slowing them all down._  
  
Ignis arrives. Four pairs of blue, yet desperate eyes fall on him.  
  
"Fix it." Noctis pleads. Demands, almost. He needs Ignis to remedy a bad situation like always. He won't allow any other thoughts to infiltrate his mind. No other alternatives. No other ways this can end. Prompto isn't bleeding out. He'll be stitched up and back on his feet in no time - hopping around and snapping pictures. That's it. _Like always, goddammit_.  
  
"I'll need the kit from the car." Ignis responds as calmly as ever and drops to his knees.

\-------

Noctis practically stumbles over his own feet as Ignis asks for more room. He disappears behind Prompto for a second before kneeling down behind his head. That's when Prompto feels wet digits slip underneath. His golden locks stain a bright red as Noctis gently places his friend's head in his lap.  
  
"I'll have to work quickly. An artery has been nicked." Ignis announces. He raises a hand and extends a single finger with a wisp of flame dancing at the tip. "I apologize, Prompto. This is going to be painful."  
  
Prompto's head stirs in Noctis' lap as a dreadful moan escapes from the back of his throat. He's attempting to brace himself, knowing exactly what's coming. He reaches a hand up behind him and grasps a handful of fabric belonging to Noct's shirt right against his bicep. Knuckles whitening, Prompto's breathing speeds up in anticipation.  
  
"It's okay, Prom. You're going to be okay." Noctis' voice is surprisingly soothing. Calmer, now. Some of that energy rubs off on Prompto. Well, it's either blood loss or the fact that his head is in the prince's lap. At last, but of course only on the brink of death. _My luck_. He desperately wishes the circumstances were different. Prompto makes sure to soak up the experience of the moment, needing something to distract him from the inevitable: Ignis' hands rooting around in a hole in his leg. He's beginning to feel numb; feel his heart begin to slow. He shoots a glance up at Noctis' perfect features. Even at such an unflattering angle with a face scrunched up with worry, the boy still looks godly. What he wouldn't give to reach up and...  
  
A searing pain completely and utterly rips through Prompto, pulling him from any and all suggestive thought. Even Noctis grimaces at the bloodcurdling scream that comes next. Nails dig into the surface of his skin where the blonde's grip is still tight against his arm, drawing blood. He closes his own eyes and looks away, unable to watch his friend in such unimaginable agony. Ignis pulls out suture materials from the kit; Prompto's reeling.  
  
"Please..." He gasps with watering eyes. He's definitely reconsidering puking and bleeding out right about now. Ignis' mouth is pressed into a hard line, but continues nevertheless. Prompto's thrashing so damn much that Gladio eventually has to restrain him. It's practically effortless, especially after his frame suddenly goes limp and heavy a few moments later. Noctis begins to panic.  
  
"H-Hey! What did you do, Ignis?!" Fingers squeeze desperately at Prompto's face.  
  
"Relax. Iggy's got it." Gladio interrupts. He glances over Prompto and continues, "Out cold. Probably for the best."  
  
There's an eerie silence as Ignis cuts off the extra length of some suture. A few more minutes pass. It seems like hours. Prompto's skin is damp with a sheen of sweat; his breathing unsteady.

"Gladio, bring the car around, please." Ignis momentarily surveys his handiwork before continuing. "Let us make for Lestallum."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. This is my first fic ever! It's also the first time I've ever posted my creative writing publicly (I've always been super self conscious about it) or even written anything in literal years so I might be rusty. With that being said, comments or constructive criticism of any sort is greatly appreciated! Seriously, I really enjoy feedback. 
> 
> This little piece takes place in somewhat of an alternate universe where potions aren't a cure-all solution. Basically, any severe injury needs ~actual~ treatment first and a potion will only help in regards to speeding up the healing process, preventing infection, etc. Aka I like to make innocent characters suffer. Just a little backstory as I didn't write anything to give you that information. I hope to expand it into several parts. I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Also, feel free to chat with me (or yell at me) on Tumblr @ [chocobeaus](https://chocobeaus.tumblr.com) :3


End file.
